Father of the Bride
by JT Gabert
Summary: Some goodbyes are the hardest, even for Eve Whitfield. Story originally published under the nom d'scrib FictionWriter2015.


It was early evening and the office was quiet. Ironside was at an event until late. Mark was with him and Ed was out on a rare date. Crime for once was under control in San Francisco. Mark had joked it was in honor of her upcoming wedding this weekend. Criminals were in mourning because Eve Whitfield would no longer be an available single lady. Her partners had been surprised that she had worked all week but she knew they were happy about it. They'd miss her during her honeymoon, but they wouldn't be so happy after they read the letter.

Determinedly she put a blank sheet of typing paper in and cranked the Royal's platen lever until the sheet was where she wanted it. How many times had she used this infernal machine to type letters, reports, and memos? Hundreds? Thousands?

" _Dear Sir"_

She shook her head, too formal. They'd been through too much together. Ripping the paper out, Eve balled it up and threw it into the nearby wastepaper basket with a practiced shot and inserted another sheet.

" _Dear…"_

She had told Sam that she didn't need his help in writing this when he offered to help her draft one last night. He had already written his to the Chief of Detectives, three weeks ago, pledging him to silence until she'd written her letter to the Chief.

" _Chief,"_

They had several long talks about what they would do in their married life. Where they would live, children, all of it. Including this.

 _"Due to my husband's acceptance of employment as Assistant Chief of Detectives with the Denver Police Department, I am tendering my resignation as an officer of the San Francisco Police Department..."_

Eve's stomach complained. It usually acted as if a lead weight had dropped into it when she was nervous. This was no exception. It was a lead cannonball. She typed quickly, completing the sentence.

" _effective immediately."_

There it was thirty four words, clean and neat in twelve point type, a coda to her career. One more sentence to complete it. How to thank the man who had changed her life so dramatically. Who had taken her out of the shallow life of a Nob Hill debutante and helped her find purpose and meaning. She had loved every minute of it. How to say it? How to express her gratitude to him?

" _The words 'Thank You',"_ she typed on, capitalizing them.

" _do not begin to describe the over four years I spent with you, Ed, and Mark, in this office nor the importance of the work I did or how you helped me mature and see the world differently. "_

She remembered when it had just been the three of them, the Chief, Ed and herself. The Chief had been the Chief of Detectives then. He could walk, run, drive, solve crimes and live on his own, running the two of them ragged; then came that horrible night of the accident. Eve shook her head. There had been no accident. Someone had deliberately attempted to murder the Chief. She and Ed had been thrown into turmoil then. Would he live? Would he die? The doctor's diagnosis had been seemingly life ending. Robert Ironside could do anything he wanted to…anything... but walk. During the time he was recovering and had gone to rehabilitation, Eve had always bitten back the thought foremost in her mind. Ironside was a cripple.

When she and Ed had gone to pick him up from St Mary's, she had cheerily but repeatedly encouraged him to rest. He had given her a scowl from the back of the wagon and angrily ordered her to say the phrase she never wanted to aloud: "Chief, you're a cripple". He'd made Ed say the same phrase. Then they went back to work to find the person who thought he'd ended the life or at least the career of Robert T. Ironside. She knew he didn't like his new role of relying on them to do his legwork, but his mind was still razor sharp and no one could solve crimes like he could and she knew that his finagling Commissioner Randall into letting him become his special assistant and live in the deserted space that had once been the historical offices of the Police Commissioner had kept him alive. Dennis Randall knew that as well she suspected. It was his way to say, "I'm sorry for having sent you to that place that night."

" _I am grateful for everything. Your example of grace and strength is one I will always carry with me._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eve Whitfield Dwyer"_

She signed the letter, placed it in the envelope, and sealed it. Getting up, she put the envelope on his desk, where she knew he'd find it tomorrow morning. He wouldn't tell Mark and Ed until after the wedding.

She heard the sound of the freight elevator coming up. Mark and the Chief must be coming up. She had hoped to be gone before he came. Ironside's wheels rattled as he came in. It was then Eve knew why she'd lingered over the letter. She couldn't tell him that way, it had to be personal.

"You're here late Eve".

"Where's Mark? Isn't he with you?"

"He met up with some friends. He'll be back before long. You're nervous Eve. Everything going all right for the wedding?"

"Yes. Sam's bachelor party is tonight. You're coming to the rehearsal dinner tomorrow at Top of the Mark?"

"Yes, I wouldn't miss it. It should be a good time."

"It better be, Daddy has gone all out for this."

"You're Howard's girl. He's always spoiled you."

"What's he going to do when he can't spoil me?"

"I suppose he'll spoil his grandchildren just as badly."

Eve laughed releasing some of the tension she felt.

"Sam Dwyer is a good man. You're going to have a wonderful life."

"Chief," she could feel the tears sting the corners of her eyes. Pointing at his desk, Eve made certain he could see the envelope. "There's a letter for you."

"I was expecting it."

"Expecting it? How? I just wrote it toni.." She stopped. "Sam told you didn't he! Damn him! He didn't think I could do it."

Ironside wheeled closer to her, taking her hands. "It wasn't that way at all Eve. He came to ask my permission for your hand. It was after he got the position. You had already made the decision to marry him and leave. He just wanted to know if we'd," his voice softened, "if I, would be alright with you gone."

"And will you Robert?" It felt right to call him that.

"I'm going to miss you very much Officer Whitfield, and it will be very different when you're gone. But we'll be alright." He pressed her hands to his lips.

"Promise me two things Chief".

"I'll try."

"When you add a new member to the team, one, hire a woman who will put up with your guff and the guys' practical jokes and two, most importantly, make sure she can eat your chili."

Ironside laughed. "I'll keep that in mind Eve. Now, I think it's time to tell stories and drink some bourbon in honor of them."

Eve got the bottle and glasses down from the cupboard, pouring a generous measure in each.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Do I?" she said handing him his drink. "I thought you were going to have me arrested."

After she left, Ironside rolled his chair to the window and stared out on the night time city scape. Rubbing his eyes, he realized he'd done what in two days Eve's father would do at the Peacock Court at the Mark Hopkins, he'd given away the bride.


End file.
